IT HONESTLY SHOULDN'T BE THIS FUCKING BEFUDDLING THAT EVEN MORE OF YOU NIGHT-WASTING FLAP TICKLERS KNOW MY NAME. BUT THE WHOLE HAVING A ROBOT KNOW IT WELL ENOUGH SPEW IT OUT ONTO THE CHITTR TIMELINE UNPROMPTED HITS A NEW LEVEL OF MILDLY IMPLACABLE HORROR THAT I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE COULD EXPERIENCE OUTSIDE OF AN OVERDAY LOST WEEABOO MEETUP. I'M RECOILING LIKE I JUST REALIZED WHAT THAT CHEESY SMELL WAFTING OFF THE BRONZE BLOOD AND SUCKER-PUNCHING ME IN THE SNIFF NUB WAS. IF YOU KNOW ANY OTHER *COOL FUCKING TRICKS*, KEEP THEM TO YOURSELF!